


Don't Touch

by sheiksleopardthong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiksleopardthong/pseuds/sheiksleopardthong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes I remember what brought me here, but most of the time I remember why I stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goingbadly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingbadly/gifts).



Once in awhile I wonder what it will be like to break open the sun. I’ll split it like a pomegranate and the light from outside will pour into its hollow centre and slosh around. I’ll hold the star in my two hands and walk carefully forward with it so none of the brilliance from its outside – now the inside – spills to the floor. If the sun’s light hits the floor it’ll scatter in a million directions, hiding under the stove and the refrigerator.  
One of my older siblings taught me about space long ago, though I cannot remember who it was. More likely than not, it was Gabriel, but I try not to think too much about Gabriel. Any of the other angels would lock me up until I wasn’t “broken” anymore if they heard me speak of the sun like that, but I think Gabriel might have laughed and told me to show him when I accomplished it.  
I’m sorry, brother, but you’re not whom I’d split the sun for.  
*---x---*  
Cas sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs, listening to the breath of the human on the same bed, behind him. The expression “pitch black” would be how most people would describe the lighting in the motel room, but Castiel didn’t agree. If he squinted a little he could see the outlines of furniture; a little moonlight from between the drawn curtains reflected off of the television screen. He’d been encased it Pitch before, and it was nothing like this. This was more of a comfort to Castiel than anything he’d experienced before meeting the Winchesters. Night was Castiel’s favourite time of day. At night he could watch Dean sleep. The time ticked by slowly as the angel sat, watching over him. The relativity of time was something Castiel had always found fascinating. It passed slower when there was nothing to do, and so he used the night, in the few hours when the hunters slept, to watch over Dean. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath was entrancing, and some nights he found himself just watching the whole time.  
The phone on the bedside table rang and Dean moaned quietly, moving to grab it still half-asleep. Cas stayed completely still, watching him.  
From the muffled conversation, he deduced that there was a job. An urgent one, from the sound of it.  
Dean hung up and groaned, sitting up, moving to turn on the light. Castiel put a hand on his shoulder to stop him and snapped quietly. “Everything’s taken care of.” And it was – Dean’s stuff was in the impala, and his clothes were neatly folded beside him, ready to be put on. Dean had mentioned on multiple occasions that he didn’t like it when Cas simply dressed him. Cas was doing his best to remember things like that. Things he took for granted and did without a second thought that caused the hunter discomfort. He was doing an okay job of it, if he said so himself.  
Cas sent a thought to Gabriel to get Sam up, and the four met each other in the car, Sam and Dean in the front, Gabriel and Castiel in the back, like always. Castiel liked it this way. He could watch Dean unobtrusively. He figured his brother didn’t feel the same way: he seemed to prefer being on Sam’s lap more than anything else. But the younger angel favoured watching from a distance, only getting close when Dean initiated.  
It was all about Dean, after all. The watching, the waiting, the listening.  
The sun rose above the horizon eventually, far off past canola fields. Cas wondered idly how he’d wrap it. Surely the paper would burn off rather quickly. If he could get a hold of some Celestial bronze maybe…  
Ah there it was: the sun in all its glory, painting the sky pink and red.  
Maybe that was the true colour of the sun. The colour on the inside, where no one could see. But of course there was no way to tell.  
Castiel had always wondered why his father had created things no one was meant to touch. But then he’d met Dean Winchester, and finally he knew the answer.


End file.
